


Our Farewell

by IcyPanther



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Shadam, Spoilers, The tribute Adam and Shiro's relationship deserved, Voltron Season Seven Spoilers, saying goodbye, shangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 13:48:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15664443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: “I never got to say goodbye,” Shiro whispered. “Or say I’m sorry. Or… Or…” His hand unclenched around the ring, the metal catching the teal light from his arm.Matt’s breath caught. “Oh, Shiro…”





	Our Farewell

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline notes** : Set directly following canon events of season seven  
>  **Warning notes** SEASON SEVEN SPOILERS! Also dealing with the grief from a character's death.

 

 _In my hands a legacy of memories_  
_I can hear you say my name_  
_I can almost see your smile_  
_Feel the warmth of your embrace_  
_But there is nothing but silence now_  
_Around the one I loved  
_ _Is this our farewell?_

 _Sweet darling you worry too much_  
_My child, see the sadness in your eyes_  
_You are not alone in life  
_ _Although you might think that you are_

 _Never thought this day would come so soon_  
_We had no time to say goodbye_  
_How can the world just carry on?_  
_I feel so lost when you are not by my side_  
_But there is nothing but silence now_  
_Around the one I loved  
_ _Is this our farewell?_

 _So sorry your world is tumbling down_  
_I will watch you through these nights_  
_Rest your head and go to sleep_  
_Because my child this is not our farewell  
_ _This is not our farewell._

_\--Our Farewell, Within Temptation_

 

 

Shiro made his way down the staging tunnel, loud cheers of the crowd echoing behind him as Iverson took the stage to formally introduce the MFE Pilots to the world and the remnants of his speech filled the air and peoples’ hearts.

Earth had been through so much in the past couple years and it made Shiro so proud to be able to give its people back their hope, their pride and most importantly, their future.

But…

His smile gave way as outside now of any other eyes he couldn’t keep it up.

He was tired.

No.

That wasn’t quite right.

He was _exhausted_ and it wasn’t just the physical ailment that had plagued the Paladins, sending them all to hospital rooms with strict orders to remain there and _rest._ That order was easier said than done as now that the fight was over a number of them wanted nothing more than to get out, see their families and _be_ on Earth again. Lance had evaded his nurses twice now and Keith four times (it was the wolf’s fault and they were lucky Cosmo got distracted each time by the cafeteria smells and they’d been able to easily round him up), which was why Shiro and Sam had made the joint agreement with the Garrison hospital to allow their families to visit them in their rooms. None of them should be up and moving for at least another day.

 _Shiro_ should not be up and about but he couldn’t bear to sit in a quiet hospital room any longer; not when there was so much to do.

He’d ignored the part of him that said that was an excuse of a reason and he knew it.

Sam hadn’t like it either -- Shiro had collapsed after piloting the Atlas and had been completely unconscious for almost six hours, not to mention covered in bumps and bruises from his earlier fight with Sendak and fall from the ship. It was a miracle, really, the doctors had said that he didn’t have anything broken let alone a concussion.

But there really was so much to do. They’d needed to coordinate efforts to retrieve the exploded remains of the robot that had attacked them, mobilize efforts to free the citizens from prison camps and defeat the sentries and few Galra officers that had not fled or been a part of the attack. There were rosters to make to reunite families, communications to re-establish with the rest of the world, food supplies to be counted, injured to heal, defenses to coordinate, allies to contact and bring in to their new coalition, and above all to put forth an image of control, of peace, and show Earth’s citizens that they were _safe_ once more.

Shiro had thrown himself into it all, and with his self-created but fully supported title of captain, it was difficult for anyone to tell him no. Sam and then Colleen had both tried to gently chide him, and Krolia (she’d arrived just that morning) had taken one look at him and ordered him to a bed and Shiro had held up his hands and promised her he would aim to do so later.

She’d looked at him, yellow gaze piercing, and told him, “ _Y_ _ou have protected and cared for my son for many years. Let us now do the same for you.”_

Shiro had feigned getting a summons on his datapad and although he knew Krolia had to know he was lying she had not called him on it.

Shiro was glad. He had hot tears stinging his eyes and he could not afford to cry; not when they had the nationwide speech going off in less than an hour.

But that was over now.

And now…

Shiro found himself headed not towards his current quarters, his old officer room, but instead…

His breath caught and he paused in the middle of the hall.

He was headed for the memorial wall.

Adam.

He’d finally found the courage to ask Sam how he’d died, and more of an answer than what he had been given before. Adam...Adam had been one of the first casualties Sendak’s forces claimed, Sam had relayed, voice heavy. He had been one of the pilots Admiral Sanda had ordered deployed when they were first attacked, despite Sam’s desperate pleas for her to reconsider as their fighter ships were no match for the Galran forces.

She had refused and…

And Adam had died protecting them, Sam had consoled.

Shiro had shaken off his hand. No.

Adam had died for _nothing_.

His death had been for nothing except one woman’s pride and refusal to listen to reason.

Adam had died because of her.

So, so many had.

And she was dead now too and there was no one for Shiro to vent his anger, his grief, upon.

But he knew deep down it wasn’t Sanda he was truly angry with.

It was himself.

He never got to say goodbye.

He had left angry for Kerberos. How could Adam give him that ultimatum when he _knew_ how much Kerberos meant to Shiro? How? Adam knew how much Shiro had trained for the mission, aspired to be its pilot, and then, when he was finally chosen to not support him? To tell Shiro he had to choose between the mission or their future together?

Shiro knew he didn’t have many years left; not with his illness. This would be his last, big mission he’d ever get to realistically go on and in any case it would be the highest accomplishment of his career at the Garrison. He _needed_ to do this.

Kerberos was supposed to be about a year total length; four months of travel in each direction and then just shy of a four more months to gather samples and analyze them (or in Shiro’s case document more of the galaxy orbit to Kerberos).

A year was a long, long time, Shiro knew, and Adam’s concerns were valid but… it was his life. He knew the limits of his body and he knew he could do this (last) mission. It was all he’d dreamed of for so long.

This was his _only_ chance.

And so he’d gone without even a goodbye. It wasn’t hard; Adam had left their room without even a note; it had been a Garrison form letter alerting Shiro that his credit supply had been halved for room allowances due to going back down to one occupant.

He’d spend the last two weeks before Kerberos launched focusing entirely on the mission and making whatever arrangements he could for Keith; he knew the year away would be hard but he had great faith in the young boy he had come to view as a brother to manage. He told Keith he anticipated coming back and finding that Keith had beaten every single one of his scores. It might keep him busy for a month, Shiro had smiled ruefully to Keith’s protests and blush.

Come launch time Shiro clung to the hope that Adam would be there, gathered on the lined walkway with the other personnel and families responsible for the mission.

He had not shown.

Shiro had forced himself to not give into the hurt that filled him at the absence. After all, it was he who was leaving for a year and hadn’t once gone to Adam’s new quarters -- a whole building over -- to try and talk and patch things up, knowing there would be no communication with Earth for the duration of their mission once they left Mars’ airspace.

He’d had a lot of time to think those first four months with only Sam and Matt for company. And it was thanks to their efforts -- both complete goofballs and Sam free to be one out of sight of his fellow top administrators -- that Shiro did not wallow or stew in his anger and hurt.

He had been wrong, he realized. Adam too, but Shiro had messed up. He had gone on plenty of missions before to space while Adam was a ground pilot and it had never really come up, but he left… for long periods of time, but even then it was normally three months at most.

This was a year.

A year without medical staff and his deteriorating health and no way to call for backup should they need it.

He’d been a fool.

Adam had been scared. For him.

Shiro still would have gone, he knew. But he would have patched things up before then, made it so for a year Adam wasn’t sitting at the Garrison as anger like Shiro had experienced gave way to loss and fear.

Shiro just prayed Adam was still waiting for him when he came back. He would make it all up to him then.

Matt had even gotten in on it and he and Shiro had spent (far, far) too much time creating elaborate dates and outings, each more lavish then the next, for the two of them to do to make up for the lost time. Shiro though was most excited for the quiet moments; curled up on the couch watching a movie, hands twined together. Maybe finally adopting a dog like Adam had been hinting at for the past year. Sitting on the roof of the communications tower (it had the best view, Adam argued, situated on the outskirts of the complex) at the Garrison and star and cloud gazing followed by soft, gentle kisses and touches and just _being_ together.

And then…

Then everything had happened.

The Galra. Haggar. The Arena.

He’d made it back to Earth only to be swept right back out, no chance to talk to Adam.

He always wondered if Iverson had even told Adam he’d come back or if Adam still believed he’d died.

He wondered if Adam believed the stories of pilot error.

He wondered if Adam somehow blamed himself.

He’d thrown all of his efforts into Voltron, into caring for his new team and _Keith_ and making sure they all made it back home safety. That they had a safe home to come back too.

He never, never imagined Adam would be the one to die.

It wasn’t right.

Shiro had expected to die on multiple occasions. He fully expected, when Voltron returned home (and they would get home, they _had_ to get home) that Keith or Matt would relay to Adam what really happened.

He never thought he’d be the one to receive that news.

He never got to say goodbye.

Shiro’s feet had carried him now to the memorial wall, but he stopped at the top of the stairs that led down to it. The wall was full of other people, tracing names on the wall and crying quietly.

That’s right.

The Garrison had personally invited (all those they could locate) the families of fallen Garrison personnel to come to the ceremony to announce their alliance with the rest of the universe. There was to be a large memorial ceremony later that evening to honor all of the fallen both here and across the globe.

Shiro hastily backed up.

He didn’t want to disturb these grieving families.

Instead his feet moved him from the main building and across the pockmarked grounds from Sendak’s barrage after the barrier had been lowered. They passed by administration buildings and then hangars one and two, having to pick his way around and over huge chunks of blown up building.

His new arm propelled him up, strength to it that no human limb could ever compete with.

Shiro wondered what Adam would think of his arm.

He’d probably hate it, he snorted, blinking away the stinging in his eyes. “ _How am I supposed to be wrapped up in those strong arms of yours when it looks like that?”_ It was why Shiro kept it this way and had no plans to alter it, even if an attached model were to be designed.

He couldn’t think anymore of what he had lost.

The communication tower was not quite fully standing; half of it blown off and Shiro knew structurally it was not safe.

He climbed it anyway.

By the time he reached the top, six stories up, he was sweating and his left palm was bleeding and he was pretty sure he’d scratched off a number of buttons and made some holes in his officer jacket.

Shiro didn’t care.

He shrugged out of the jacket, grunting when it snagged on his shoulder port, and tossed it down on the rubble strewn roof, leaving him in his white tank top and soft Altean teal glow illuminating his right side.

His eyes cast up to the sky; the sun just beginning to track towards the edge of the horizon and the faintest streaks beginning to color the blue against the dusty brown landscape of the desert around them.

Shiro had always said the desert matched Adam’s eyes; open and vast and full of wonder. Adam would tell him he was a hopeless romantic. Shiro always responded Adam just didn’t appreciate poetry.

“ _That was supposed to be poetry?”_ Adam would snort. _“Better keep your day job, Takashi.”_

Shiro wasn’t aware he was sitting until his legs gave out below him and sent him to the roof with a thump.

His left hand trembled in a fist at his side, nails biting into his palm. It was a better pain than the hot sensation building in his eyes but not so much as the ache growing in his chest.

“I…” Shiro swallowed thickly. The words lodged in his throat. Saying it made it real. Made it permanent. “I…”

He swallowed again, eyes focused on the desert landscape spread out in a neverending brown below.

“I miss you,” he finally whispered.

Not even the wind answered.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro continued. “I”m s-sorry. For leaving. For... for not listening. For not being here. For… f-for _everything.”_

He could never be sorry enough.

A broken sob worked its way out of his throat and Shiro tried to muffle it against his closed fist.

It broke through anyway.

And Shiro didn’t have the strength to hold it in.

Not here, not where there was no one to see him. No reason to remain strong, to pretend he was fine.

No one could see him here.

And so he cried.

His shoulders heaved under the onslaught and his throat ached and his eyes burned and Shiro couldn’t stop.

He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to.

He cried for every lost moment, everything he had never been able to say. He cried for the loss of a vibrant life, for the anger and pain and sadness he knew he had caused. He cried for the ring and its future, returned to him with the rest of his belongings the Garrison had taken control of when he’d been presumed dead. He'd planned to give Adam when he returned from Kerberos, before their disagreement had happened. 

Shiro had almost thrown it out, anger making him rash. He’d held it in his hand, debated tossing it straight into the trash, after Adam had posed his ultimatum, because what future did the two of them have now?

But he couldn’t. 

Because he loved Adam.

Adam had been his future.

He’d just been too blind to see it then.

He dug the ring out now from beneath his shirt, strung on a silver chain, and held it up to the dying sun’s rays.

His shoulders shook again but he had no tears left to shed. A hiccuping, painful sob sounded instead and Shiro clenched his flesh hand about the ring, bringing it over his rapidly beating heart.

He needed to go back, he knew. The memorial would be starting soon; set to go off once the sun had set as there was going to be a candle ceremony and it was almost time.

He didn’t move.

He knew Sam would understand.

He just…

Couldn’t right now.

Instead, Shiro eased himself down on roof, propping his head on his ruined jacket, and gazed up at the darkening sky, the glimmers of stars beginning to show themselves amidst the dusty streaks.

He willed his breaths to return to normal, to calm the thudding of his heart.

It was then he noticed the chill starting to set in now that the sun had set.

He stayed.

It seemed right, somehow. Normally he and Adam would come up at night armed with blankets and hot drinks (tea for Shiro, decaf coffee for Adam) and those and their own company would keep them warm as they huddled together.

It was right to be cold.

Shiro was alone now.

A rough scraping on the side of the building had Shiro jerking to a sit, previously calmed heart thudding again. Galra? Drones? Building collapse?

His arm hummed to power and he scrambled to his feet.

But none of the above happened.

Instead an auburn head popped over the edge, hair pulled back in a long, messy ponytail and a look of concentrated exhaustion on the scarred face.

Matt.

Those warm honey eyes caught his and Matt offered him a gentle smile.

“Thought I’d find you up here.”

Shiro said nothing as Matt flipped himself over the lip of the roof and then came to sit beside him, where Shiro had settled back down after realizing there was no threat.

A gloved hand descended carefully on Shiro’s shoulder.

“You okay?”

Shiro made a non-committal hum, hating how Matt’s question had made his eyes sting again and he discovered he did apparently still have some fluids left to cry out.

Matt’s hand moved to his back and across it, pulling Shiro into a side hug. He said nothing else except to rub slow circles on Shiro’s back as shoulders shook beneath them.

“I miss him,” Shiro whispered, voice scratchy. “I… I was _such_ an idiot.”

“No,” Matt’s tone was sharp. “No, he repeated, softer. “You’re not an idiot Shiro. Not then, not now, not ever.”

Matt sighed, long and low. “We’ve all made mistakes, we all have regrets. But Shiro… you can’t beat yourself up over them. You can’t. If it wasn’t for you… _I’d_ be dead. My dad would be probably be dead. You saved _us._ You saved the universe.”

“But not Adam,” came the bitter whisper.

“And his death wasn’t your fault,” Matt said gently. “You can’t protect everyone, Shiro. You can’t.”

“I never got to say goodbye. Or say I’m sorry. Or… Or…” His hand unclenched around the ring, the metal catching the teal light from his arm.

“Oh, Shiro…”

Matt’s hold tightened.

“...do… do you think he’d have said yes?” Shiro wondered quietly, throat still clogged with tears.

“Without a doubt,” Matt whispered.

Shiro bowed his head. “I don’t know what to do, Matt.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Matt said gently.

“I can’t do to that,” Shiro said, trying to swallow down the bitterness in the words. “There’s so much--”

“No. None of that,” Matt interrupted him. “You’ve done enough for the universe, Shiro. Rest. You deserve it.”

“I can’t,” Shiro muttered. “I just… I keep _thinking_ and I can’t stop.”

“You need to get away from all of this,” Matt said quietly. “You need a _break._ You’ve been fighting for too long, Shiro. You need space. And not,” he quickly added, “space-space. There’s enough people here to run things while you step back for a little bit, find yourself again, find what makes you happy.”

“And where would I go?” Shiro asked. He didn’t want to commit to it but a break sounded… a break sounded nice. To busy himself with efforts not related to war and recovery and intergalactic relations and the expectations placed upon him at every turn.

“I recall making a very detailed list of destinations and activities,” Matt nudged him gently. “I’d say a number of them would make for a nice family vacation too, you know, so long as they’re not blown up and stuff. Why don’t we all go? Us, the Paladins, their families… we’ll make it a full trip of adventure and fun and do all the things you talked about. What do you say?”

“I…” Shiro swallowed. “I’d really like that.”

“Then it’s settled,” Matt grinned easily and Shiro found his own lips turning up. “We’ll talk to my dad and get everything arranged here and round up the others and head out by next week. It’ll be great.”

Matt filled up the quiet of the night then with chatterings and plans and side notes of if they should take the Lions or travel more old school and maybe the Garrison would loan them a jet?

Shiro tuned it out and looked up to the now officially darkened sky, studded with stars and further aways off lit by a gentle yellow glow.

The memorial ceremony.

“I miss you,” the words spilled off his tongue and Matt’s chatter ceased, the hand on his shoulder tightening in support as Shiro gazed at the soft candlelight.  “I’ll never forget you. I… I love you. I always will. This… this isn’t goodbye, either. We’ll see each other again, someday. And then…” Shiro’s hand curled around the ring. “Then we’ll be together.”

His expression softened, gentled. Peace filled him at the admission, the promise. He would see Adam again. Because this...

This was not their farewell.

**Author's Note:**

> I surprised myself a bit with this one, but it’s been pushing at my brain since the season ended. I loved the addition of Adam to the series and was sad when he died, but more devastated when Shiro was not shown to properly get to grieve over that loss. That’s what this story is; it’s about loss and things left unsaid and my personal worst nightmare that I or someone else I love will say something cruel to one another and something will happen where we never get to take it back. It struck me right in the heart.
> 
> So this is my tribute to Adam and to Shiro and to their relationship. I hope you enjoyed it. Please do leave a comment below; I’d love to hear your reactions. Thank you very much!


End file.
